


I had to fill the time

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [53]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Happy Ending, Jealous Betty, Jealousy, Journalist Betty, Oblivious Betty, Self Confidence Issues, Smut, archeologist jughead, betty doesn't know how sexy she is, bughead - Freeform, jughead sure shows her, older jughead, smitten jughead, younger betty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Betty wonders if she's the best sex Jughead Jones has ever had.





	I had to fill the time

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to 'Ithoughtyoulikedmereckless" who is an absolutely wonderful human being and completely inspired me to write this update to this lil mini-series. You are a gemstone and I hope you like this! You made my day with your lovely comment and you reached out to me and MWAH thank you so much darling! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sleeping with Jughead is...

Well, it's fantastic. 

It's just...it's just being fantastic isn't quite so  _fantastic._

Obviously, it is, but she'd finally felt as if they were equals, she'd finally felt as if she were on his level, and then they'd had sex and it had shattered the illusion. They may be equals in life, but it doesn't seem like they're equals in the bedroom. Betty's not a virgin. She's had sex. A couple of times, actually. Three times. With two different guys. Whatever, she's not one for sleeping around. She had a few boyfriends in college, but she's not the type to leap into bed. Yet she's never felt...inexperienced. And it's not that she feels inexperienced with Jughead either, it's just that he takes her places. Place she didn't know it was possible to go. So high that she wonders if she could ever come down. She knows she's ruined for anyone else. She likes it. 

He's twenty eight. She's twenty-two. That's a big age gap. Of course he has more experience than her. It makes sense. And though she doesn't like to think about him with other women, she knows there must have been some in the six years they spent away from each other. But still, does that mean he has to be so... _good?_ Betty buries her face into her hands; feeling the heat from her cheeks spread into her palms. She feels like she's complaining about nothing. What is she supposed to say? Her boyfriend is too good at sex? That's her complaint? Not only is he handsome and smart and her childhood crush, but he's too good at sex? She wants to talk to Polly about it ideally, but Polly always claps her hands over her ears whenever she has to think about Betty and Jughead, her sister and her best friend, having sex, so she's not really been any help. But when Betty looks at Jughead, she figures it must have been an obvious assumption. His nimble fingers and his sharp tongue, and the heat in his eyes, and the tightly coiled muscles in his arms and abs. 

Veronica stares at her from across the coffee table, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Okay," her best friend begins with an incredulous laugh in her voice. "I said it's time to complain about boyfriends but I didn't think that would make you spontaneously combust in this cafe." She reaches over to grab one of Betty's wrists and pry it away from her face. "C'mon, B, it's alright, we can talk about something else." Her voice turns into a sing-song as Betty finally stares at her without her fingers to hide behind. "But you're making me think it's a really good complaint..."

The blonde groans and shakes her head, ponytail swishing behind her. "Okay," she begins, ignoring how Veronica leans in eagerly. She sweeps her eyes around the cafe but no one is looking their way. She keeps her voice quiet just in case. "It's...it's in the bedroom." She confesses. 

Veronica squeals, clapping her hands and setting down her latte like this is too good to miss a single second of. Betty groans louder. "No, no!" Veronica encourages, waving her hands as if that will get Betty to start talking. "This is good. This is bonding, you never talk about this stuff, and I am an expert. Please. Let me help." 

Betty mumbles something under her breath, but repeats it before Veronica has to drag it out of her. "That's the thing," she says quietly, playing with a stray piece of thread from the couch she's on. It's got multiple coffee stains so it looks a bit terrible (though this corner cafe is supposed to be rustic), but it smells divine. "He doesn't need any help. He could be helping people, V."

Her raven-haired friend takes a sharp intake of breath, but her voice is even when she talks. "That good, huh?" She says, sounding purposely light-hearted.

She nods, burying her head back into her hands. "The best. I feel so...ugh, I feel like I'm not doing enough-"

"Betty," Veronica cuts her off in that no-nonsense voice. The voice that wins arguments against everyone. The voice that puts people in their places and got them into nightclubs when they were both underage. Betty wonders who Veronica is using that voice on more: Reggie or Archie. "You are doing more than enough. He's older than you, sure he has more experience it's a no brainer. That doesn't mean you're not good. Or god forbid, bad," she shudders. "If he keeps coming back for more, you're doing enough. Besides,  _look_ at you. You could just lie there and he'd lose his mind." 

She's blushing furiously, and though the words make her feel better, it's not enough to stop her from feeling inadequate and all too soon she's back in their bedroom. 

* * *

 

Jughead's Manhattan apartment is her second favourite of his apartments. He has one in Germany that they'd stayed at for a weekend, and the dabbled streets and rolling hills had captured her heart. The ceiling had sloped down in the corners of the room creating comfortable and enticing little reading nooks everywhere, and they'd cuddled up all over the floor feeling completely at home. She likes the Manhattan apartment too, though. It's classy and sophisticated and functional. Everything she wants out of an apartment. 

It's close enough to her job, and the most popular base for Jughead's many excavation tasks. She hadn't thought Manhattan had such a rich underground history. Though she's grateful it does. As often as Jughead wants to take her along to all the places he goes, she can't always abandon work and she misses him dreadfully while he's away. He misses her too though, if the frequent phone calls and text messages with sad faces are anything to go by. It's exhilarating in a way, and she understands  _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ because whenever he comes back, there's a burning fire between them, flaring up from a kindling, and they collapse into each other as though they can never get enough. 

He's only been gone for three days this time, somewhere in Utah, and his fingers are making quick, deft work of the buttons on her blouse. 

Only this morning she was having a conversation with Veronica about adequacy. And now here they are. 

Whenever his fingertips touch her, it's like he's sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She goes hot and flushed all over as his hands slide along her waist and up the straps of her bra. His lips are mouthing at her neck, and she's just sitting on the kitchen counter, feeling completely ravished. She doesn't know why they're here and not in the bedroom that's just a few feet away, but damn if she doesn't melt at the way Jughead just picks her up and carries her to the nearest flat surface as if he can't wait another second. Maybe Veronica is right. Maybe just being  _her_ is enough. He pants something into the hollow arch of her throat and she has to strain to hear what he's saying, all the while fighting shivers of the sensations as he undoes her bra. 

"Missed you so much," he's chanting, teeth and tongue and  _him_ against her skin. "God, look at you, Betty, god, you're so beautiful. I missed you so much," and then his hands are on her breasts and she cries out with pleasure as everything inside her lights up all at once. 

Even as her body responds though, her mind is racing. He's clearly into her. He clearly digs whatever the hell it is she's laying down even if she feels like...like she's not enough. She's frustrated at herself. Frustrated at herself for making things difficult. For finding fault where things seem to be fine. She's just sitting here! Her fingers are in his hair and she's holding on for dear life, but he's the one getting her heart racing and despite his whispered adorations, she's not sure what she's doing for him. 

What can she do for him? She doesn't know enough about sex. Is there something she should be doing? Is there something she's missing? She suddenly regrets not asking Veronica a lot more questions at brunch. 

Jughead pulls away from her, hair flopped into his forehead and green eyes lust-blown but concerned. His lips are red and swollen and she knows there are going to be hickeys on her neck. "Betts?" He whispers, panting, "you okay?" 

He looks like he wants to do nothing more than take her right here right now. She  _wants_ him to do it, but her brain won't switch off. She opens her mouth, then shuts it again. She cocks her head and tries to gather her thoughts. It's a little past ten pm, and she has a gorgeous, shirtless man in front of her. Her boyfriend. He's in love with her. She's in love with him. His hands are still on her hips like they belong there. "Do you..." the question sounds ludicrous before she even says it, "do you find me attractive?'

He snorts like it's a joke, rolling his eyes and leaning in to start nipping at her earlobe. She shivers as he blows hot air into her ears. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispers, sucking another hickey just behind her ear. She knows he likes to mark her up, and she likes it too, but she's going to have to wear her hair down for most of next week. Should she give him hickeys? She looks at his long neck and lust coils in the pit of her stomach. She likes the idea. She likes the idea of matching hickeys and of biting and sucking into that rather sexy groove just above his prominent collar bones. But would he like that? Should she do that? He seems to have forgotten about her question now, as he kisses her shoulder and starts sliding one of his hands up her skirt. 

"But..." she breathes, "but in a...you know, in a sexual way?" Sometimes, she still feels like the pimply teenager whose hair he used to ruffle as he ate breakfast with Polly. 

He pulls back, another amused smile on his pink, pink lips. He grins. "Um..." he gestures to his nether regions, where a prominent bulge is pressing against the front of his trousers. She gives him a look. "Betty, I'm serious," he laughs, but he slides his hands back down to her knees. "If that's not proof enough how sexy I find you, I'm not sure what is." 

"I don't..." she struggles with it, "I don't feel like I'm doing enough. For you. Sexually." 

She's proud of herself for saying it. It took a lot, but they have the type of relationship that makes her feel like she can be brave. He makes her brave. Jughead frowns, looking almost angry, and it makes her feel a little good that he feels so adamant about this. "Are you kidding?" He demands, all hard lines and fierceness. "Betty, you don't have to do anything for me sexually, but what you do, do? It's  _beyond_ incredible. My god," he chokes an annoyed huff, "you are a fucking goddess and you drive me crazy by wearing a pair of shorts when it's hot, you think you have to do more? Where's your head?" He pushes their foreheads together like he's trying to push his thoughts of her out of his own brain and into hers. 

She smiles a little, and he pecks at it. "I just...you make me feel  _so_ good, Juggie," she whispers, and he groans wantonly against her mouth. "Better than anyone else ever made me feel."

He's panting against her, emanating energy. His abdominal muscles are tensing and he's burying his face just above her chest. "Betty, if the aim is to get me there  _before_ we have sex, it's working." He growls. 

She strokes her fingers through his hair and tilts his head up a little. "I want to make you feel better than anyone ever made you feel."

"You do," he insists, trying to kiss her again. She lets him for a few moments, before pushing him away. 

He moans brokenly like being apart from her is physical torture, and this is doing wonderful things for her ego really, but she has to be sure. "Am I? But you're so good, you must have had sex with so many women. How could I compare?" 

He shakes his head as if in awe of her ability to have such coherent thought when they're half naked and pressed together. "You're crazy, Cooper. You take me to another level. You know that." 

Betty's not sure she does and she spends the rest of the night pondering it. 

Jughead takes a shower.

* * *

 

A few days pass without sex. 

Jughead seems hesitant to instigate it and Betty won't, not until she can figure out just how good she is. It's like being back at school and trying to sneak a look at the grades of her friends to see who was better at a certain subject. Betty Cooper wants to be the best at Jughead Jones. Sue her. She's competitive. Jughead Jones is the best at Betty Cooper, and isn't it only fair that things are same the other way around? She pads into the kitchen one morning to see Jughead eating a bowl of lucky charms and frowning at the newspaper. She catches sight of the word  _building development_ in bold and pouts for him. Malls ruin excavation opportunities. 

There's coffee brewing for her and she pours a cup, before leaning across the counter opposite him. "Morning, Jug," she beams, reaching over to flick his forehead. He nods, acknowledging her with a grunt, but not looking away from the text. It's what he does when he's absorbed in something so she drinks her coffee and reaches out to steal a few sugary gems when he's not eating. 

Eventually her puts the paper down, looking troubled by the capitalistic tendencies of the world, and sees her and smiles. It's the big, toothy smile she gets in the mornings. "Morning, buttercup," he beams. "Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm. Did you?"

He shrugs, "might have slept better if I felt like I could spoon you without having to discuss the logistics and grading criteria of sexual intercourse." 

Betty cocks her head and smirks, ruffling his hair. "You are such a cuddler." She decrees. He grumbles half-heartedly, before moving to take his bowl to the sink. 

"Anyway, there's a gallery opening tonight down at the Museum on 56th. It's to display the restorations of that big dig we did last year. Do you wanna come?" 

Betty squeals excitedly the way she always does when the chance to dip into Veronica's wardrobe comes around. "Of course I do! Is it black tie?" 

He kisses her temple as he heads for the shower. "Would I tell you if it wasn't?" 

Probably not, considering he's not one for social events. She spins happily on the stool and texts Veronica. As usual, her best friend is happy to give her access to her wardrobe so Betty hurries across town to have a look at her favourites. 

Social events with Jughead is something she likes. Staying in and snuggling on the coach is perfect too, but the former is rarer. And she likes the way they look all clean cut and pristine, pressed together and smiling. They have a few photos of them in smart, matching attire, and they're some of Betty's favourites. They look so proper in them. All real and grown up and it makes her inner child preen with delight. So it's with a significant amount of glee that she steps out into the living room to see Jughead in his suit. 

His jacket is a deep red, over a silk black shirt, and red pants. His shoes are a tan brown and match his belt, and he's got a red bowtie. Betty could cry. Her own dress is just black silk. Veronica, as always, stocks up on opulence, and it feels like heaven against her skin. It flows down to the floor and there's a large slit up to her thigh. Her heels, however, are killer and the same shade of red as Jughead's suit. Her favourite wavy lock is falling darkly into his forehead, and hers is hanging softly down her back. 

He doesn't see her at first. He looks so thoroughly disturbed by something he's looking at on his phone, that she's worried something bad has happened. "Is everything okay?" She asks. 

"Not re-" he begins, only to look up and the words to die on his tongue. She blushes under his gaze but struts forward confidently. The silk hugs her body as she walks and he doesn't seem to know  _where_ to look. At her perfect, bare shoulders? At the seductive dip into her cleavage or that obscenely gorgeous slit up the thigh. "Jesus, Betty," he whispers, and he sounds  _wrecked._ "You're a literal embodiment of beauty and you won't let me have sex with you. Do you secretly hate me? Is that what this is? I looked after you, you know. I was your babysitter and I should be treated with respect." His voice is teasing, but his eyes can't seem to tear themselves away from the flash of bare skin around the top of her leg. 

She links arms with him, and presses their bodies together. His eyes flicker between her eyes and her breasts, and she leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. She's practically the same height as him in these heels, and his hand settles on her waist, warmth seeping in through the fabric. "You were a very good babysitter," she teases, dragging him towards the front door before he begins to beg that they stay home and he can take her out of that dress. 

"Are you sure we should go? Maybe I could take you out of that d-"

Betty hauls them out the front door. 

* * *

 

The gallery is gorgeous and the restorations are masterpieces. True works of art from a period of time she doesn't know anything about it. It's culture and she's steeped in it. Everyone is gorgeous and well-dressed and she and Jughead walk from piece to piece, hand in hand, sometimes with his hand on the small of her back, around her waist, or hers on his chest as she leans in to him. Sometimes they're holding glasses of champagne and whispering to each other. She's so happy that for a moment she forgets that she's worried about how good she is in bed. She just enjoys the company and meeting Jughead's work friends and listening to his stories about how they found each of the pieces.

It's a nice change of scene. Normally the black tie events they go to are being run by Betty's side of the line. With journalists and press and big openings to things. With Betty's friends and Betty's bosses. It's nice to see Jughead's circle. All a bit older, all a bit tanned from being dotted all over the world, some with interesting accents and fascinating stories. It's awe-inspiring but she doesn't feel like a child.

Jughead has always treated her like a peer since they started dating. It's been almost a year now, and she feels like his peer. Like his partner. It's the final piece of the puzzle that just needs slotting in.

"Jughead Jones?" comes a pleased, incredulous voice, and Betty and Jughead turn simultaneously to see a gorgeous blonde in a vibrant yellow dress come up them. 

Betty immediately appraises her. This woman- this stranger- has long blonde hair and big blue eyes. She's tall. Very tall. Taller than Jughead, and her dress flounces around her knees. She smiles widely. Too widely, in Betty's opinion. She turns to look at Jughead for some indication for who this woman is, but Jughead looks equal parts grim and petrified. He manages a smile though, and it looks genuine. Betty frowns. "Lavender," he breathes, sounding like he's seeing a ghost. "Oh my god, it's been..."

"Four years!" Lavender bursts, brimming with excitement. "I can't believe I'm seeing you! What are the chances?" 

Jughead nods, laughing a little bit, before gesturing to Betty. "Well, uh, Lavender, this is my girlfriend Betty. Betty, this is Lavender. We...we worked on a site together in Russia a few years- well, four years ago," he swipes his hand through his hair. He's nervous. Betty doesn't like it. She extends a hand to Lavender who takes it merrily. She doesn't seem to dislike Betty, so Betty softens a little. They just worked on a dig together a long time ago, that's all. 

"It's great to see you again, Jughead! I'm in town for a while and we have to catch up!" She rocks on her heels like she's got too much energy. As much as Betty doesn't hate Lavender, she's not hugely keen on the two of them catching up. "But right now, there's a certain gentlemen who I promised a date!" And she's off. Jughead and Betty stare after her in a mix of shock and disbelief. Betty giggles and Jughead nudges her, as they move to the next exhibit. She considers asking about it, but decides that if it were important, Jughead would tell her. 

But it appears that jealousy, the ugly mistress, won't leave Betty alone tonight. And she does not come unprompted. A little while after the encounter with Lavender, a delicate voice clears their throat, and Betty and Jughead turn from an ancient pot, to see an unimpressed model standing before them. Betty gapes. This woman is a little shorter than them, with platinum hair that comes down to her waist. She's pale with blue eyes and wears a sheer white dress with impressive shoulder pads. She doesn't look at Betty. She just stares at Jughead who stares back at her with his jaw slightly agape. Betty feels her heckles rise a little bit. Does Jughead think this woman is attractive? He must. Look at her! 

"Jones," an unimpressed, heavy accented voice drawls. "You didn't call." 

Betty splutters and Jughead turns a dark red. "Um, no, Natasha, I- well, look, this is Betty Cooper, my g-"

A pristine white business card is being slotted into Jughead's suit pocket, and then the model is walking away. Betty wants to slap herself. She knows her boyfriend is attractive. She knows that. And she knows he's kind and sweet, but that...that's...she watches as Jughead irritatedly picks the card out of his pocket and tears it into a hundred little pieces and scatters it onto the marble floor like the most beautiful confetti Betty's ever seen. "Some people have ego's so big, nothing can bring them down," he mutters, holding Betty more tightly to his side. "I kissed her once about three years ago and never called her and it's still not  _her_ but  _me."_

She laughs, feeling better about it all. "Some people," she agrees with an eye roll. 

It reaches a breaking point when it happens again because three times in one night? She thinks not. Jughead is getting them another drink, and has been waylaid at the table by a smiley woman with curly blonde hair and cream skin. She's wearing a blue, strappy dress and is staring up at Jughead like he hung the moon in the sky. He's politely trying to get away, but the woman is handsy, and before Betty knows what she's doing, she's marching over. Jughead sees her coming and disentangles himself away from the blonde and hurries over to her. "I'm sorry," he whispers urgently, kissing her forehead, "I know this makes me look bad-"

"What is this?" Betty demands with exasperation. 

Jughead groans in dismay. "It was a different time and I'm not like that now, I swear." 

"I don't know what you're talking about! Why are all-"

"Look at them, Betty," he urges. "Look at them."

She does. She looks at the model who's being surly at a vase. At the bubbly, curly haired girl who's still hovering by the table, and at Lavender who's chatting happily to a sweet gentleman. She's not sure what she's supposed to be seeing. They're all beautiful, in different ways. All apparently connected to Jughead, and probably all archaeologists who understand what he's talking about when he asks them to pass him a certain type of excavating brush. 

Jughead's voice begins whispering in her ear as she looks determinedly between the three women, trying to see the link. "It was a...bad time for me. I wasn't in a great place. I had just broken up with Toni, and you were...you were happy and going to college, and I didn't wanna ruin things, so...I threw myself into my work." He sounds sorry and regretful and Betty wonders just what it is he's done that he feels so bad about. "I went wherever they sent me and I didn't care where it was. I just wanted a distraction. I thought different countries and locations would take my mind off it. Off you. But it didn't, obviously. Nothing could. So I...well, I started having...they didn't start out as flings, not really. I just..." she peeks up at him to see he has his eyes closed and he looks so guilty that she touches his cheek gently with her fingers. He softens under her touch. "But I couldn't commit to anything, not really. And I never cheated, but I also...I also never called back. I just crept out in the mornings whenever I could and it burnt a lot bridges. It wasn't healthy and it definitely wasn't doing anything for me emotionally." 

Betty turns to look back at the three women, still wondering how it pieces together. They were one night stands? She understands that much. Why is he apologising for it? She understands. Their time away from each other, whilst necessary, was always a painful separation. He'd needed a coping mechanism. 

"It's why I didn't want to come tonight. I got an email with the guest list and I saw the names. I don't want you to think I'm that guy, because I'm not, I'm really not."

"Juggie," she reassures, "this is such a silly thing to be worried, about I'm not-"

It comes to her all of a sudden. It clicks into place and she can see it. She sees it. The link between all three women. They're all blonde, with cream skin and big blue eyes. They all look, in some way or another, like her. Like  _Betty._ She knows, that if she were to see a picture of all the people Jughead Jones had a one night stand with, the likeness would be remarkable. She smiles so wide it nearly hurts. She has left a mark on him. She has ruined him for other women. She  _does_ take him to another level. He sags with relief at her expression and she hugs him tightly. His arms fold around her back and he wraps himself around her. It's like they're in their own little bubble and nothing else matters. 

"Let's go home," she whispers. 

They have sex that night. She leaves hickeys and she rides him slowly, leaves him cursing underneath her. She knows he's hers. She's the best Jughead Jones will ever have, and the confidence blossoms inside her like a flower. With it, so does the intensity, until he's spinning her over and kissing her senseless. Her legs fasten around his hips and her hands splay out over his body. 

Afterwards, as they lie tangled in bed, he kisses her head and stretches like a pleased cat. "That thing you do," he murmurs, half asleep already, "where you scratch my back like that, fuck, Betty," he snuggles into the pillow. "You've destroyed me." 

She can't sleep for a little while after that.

She's smiling too hard. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it!
> 
> If you have any prompt ideas or just wanna tell me you liked it, comment below and if you wanna hang out on tumblr hmu at typing123
> 
> MWAH MWAH X


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